tagging along and trying to steal a bit of the glory for himself. And get a piece of Janice while he was at it.
The cocksucker. Janice was his , not Sarge’s.
He turned to look at the two, sitting at the table and talking, and now he saw Sarge for what he was. A dumb ass pistol jockey just trying to make a move on Janice, another scientist, who was clearly above him. The bastard!
He’d show them. Both of them.
Chapter Thirteen
Colby and Janice sat at the small table in the center of their camp and listened for any sign of their missing comrades. Janice fidgeted with an empty test tube while Colby filled both clips for his .45 with hollow points. Some people might think a .45 caliber hollow point slug was overkill - a single round could disintegrate a man’s chest - but not Colby. Not in this case, anyway. The way the bodies kept getting up and walking around he figured he needed all the stopping power he could get.
The rifle was another matter. He had spare clips for it, of course, but the extra box of ammo he’d packed was missing, leaving him with two empty clips and one with five bullets remaining. Between the two guns, that meant they had a grand total of twenty-three rounds they could fire if the need arose. It should be plenty. He fingered the compass in his jacket pocket. Tomorrow morning he and Janice and any remaining members of the team were going hiking. They’d head East toward Caribou until they picked up a cell phone signal, at which point Colby was going to call Anzer and tell him to get them the fuck out of there.
After half an hour passed with no sign of the others, Colby’s stomach gurgled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He glanced at his watch. Two a.m. They were going to have to eat something, then get to sleep if they would have any chance of getting out early tomorrow. He looked up to see Janice with her head on the table, already asleep. She looked cute sitting there like that.
He stood and walked to the tent, keeping an ear open for any noises coming from the outskirts of the clearing. He walked with his hand on the butt of his pistol, just in case. No fucking worm-addled scientist would get the drop on him this time, by God. He poked his head through the flap.
All his gear was in place, and the sleeping bag lay undisturbed on the floor of the tent. He stepped in and grabbed a bag of jerky from his backpack. After shoving the jerky in his pocket, he grabbed a bottle of water from the small cooler by the tent entrance, and stepped back out into the clearing.
He stood still for a count of sixty, listening to the sounds of the woods. No rustling twigs, no voices, nothing but the crickets and nighttime birds. Perfect.
He walked over to the table and set the water and the jerky on top of it, then he slung the rifle over his shoulder and bent over to pick Janice up. She would be easier to watch if she were safe inside the tent. She groaned at his touch, but settled into his arms easily enough. She was heavier than he thought she would be, but that was probably because of her muscle mass. The woman obviously worked out, and hard. He’d have thought the opposite to be true, but then again he didn’t know many scientists, let alone female botanists, so who was he to make assumptions?
He carried her over to her tent, again listening for sounds from the woods, but none came. He got to the tent in peace and carried her through the flap. Once inside, he laid her down on the sleeping bag and zipped it up. She snuggled into it and smiled in her sleep. Yes, definitely cute. He stared at her for another few seconds, fighting a strong impulse to lay down beside her, and then turned around and left the tent. Far better to let her sleep in peace, he thought. Besides, she’ll be gone soon. Back to her university and hallways full of students. It pained him more than he wanted to admit. Soon she would leave for Arizona, and he would be alone again, listening to the sounds of his empty
The cocksucker. Janice was his , not Sarge’s.
He turned to look at the two, sitting at the table and talking, and now he saw Sarge for what he was. A dumb ass pistol jockey just trying to make a move on Janice, another scientist, who was clearly above him. The bastard!
He’d show them. Both of them.
Chapter Thirteen
Colby and Janice sat at the small table in the center of their camp and listened for any sign of their missing comrades. Janice fidgeted with an empty test tube while Colby filled both clips for his .45 with hollow points. Some people might think a .45 caliber hollow point slug was overkill - a single round could disintegrate a man’s chest - but not Colby. Not in this case, anyway. The way the bodies kept getting up and walking around he figured he needed all the stopping power he could get.
The rifle was another matter. He had spare clips for it, of course, but the extra box of ammo he’d packed was missing, leaving him with two empty clips and one with five bullets remaining. Between the two guns, that meant they had a grand total of twenty-three rounds they could fire if the need arose. It should be plenty. He fingered the compass in his jacket pocket. Tomorrow morning he and Janice and any remaining members of the team were going hiking. They’d head East toward Caribou until they picked up a cell phone signal, at which point Colby was going to call Anzer and tell him to get them the fuck out of there.
After half an hour passed with no sign of the others, Colby’s stomach gurgled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He glanced at his watch. Two a.m. They were going to have to eat something, then get to sleep if they would have any chance of getting out early tomorrow. He looked up to see Janice with her head on the table, already asleep. She looked cute sitting there like that.
He stood and walked to the tent, keeping an ear open for any noises coming from the outskirts of the clearing. He walked with his hand on the butt of his pistol, just in case. No fucking worm-addled scientist would get the drop on him this time, by God. He poked his head through the flap.
All his gear was in place, and the sleeping bag lay undisturbed on the floor of the tent. He stepped in and grabbed a bag of jerky from his backpack. After shoving the jerky in his pocket, he grabbed a bottle of water from the small cooler by the tent entrance, and stepped back out into the clearing.
He stood still for a count of sixty, listening to the sounds of the woods. No rustling twigs, no voices, nothing but the crickets and nighttime birds. Perfect.
He walked over to the table and set the water and the jerky on top of it, then he slung the rifle over his shoulder and bent over to pick Janice up. She would be easier to watch if she were safe inside the tent. She groaned at his touch, but settled into his arms easily enough. She was heavier than he thought she would be, but that was probably because of her muscle mass. The woman obviously worked out, and hard. He’d have thought the opposite to be true, but then again he didn’t know many scientists, let alone female botanists, so who was he to make assumptions?
He carried her over to her tent, again listening for sounds from the woods, but none came. He got to the tent in peace and carried her through the flap. Once inside, he laid her down on the sleeping bag and zipped it up. She snuggled into it and smiled in her sleep. Yes, definitely cute. He stared at her for another few seconds, fighting a strong impulse to lay down beside her, and then turned around and left the tent. Far better to let her sleep in peace, he thought. Besides, she’ll be gone soon. Back to her university and hallways full of students. It pained him more than he wanted to admit. Soon she would leave for Arizona, and he would be alone again, listening to the sounds of his empty
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